City of Light and Shadow
by Safetypinheart
Summary: Post CoG- Clary and Jace are spinning in circles, their growing tensions pulling them further and further apart. When outside forces threaten to tear them apart, will they hold onto the threads that bind them together? Rated M for later.
1. Chapter 1

Clary was indulging in very childish behaviour, and had a good stomp in her stride as she stormed away from the golden haired Shadowhunter in her wake, relishing in every pound of her booted feet on the cracked pavement. She was unreasonably angry when Jace caught up to her and grabbed her arm, stopping the solid, angry momentum she had worked up to and twirling her around to face him.

"Clary, what the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed, concern flitting across his face and settling into the muscles, setting his jaw and making it spasm.

"You! Them! Everything!" she snapped, tearing her arm free with much more force than was necessary, as Jace had readjusted his grip so it was merely holding, and not locked around her bicep. His gentleness only served to work her anger into a writhing, living thing. "I'm not a mundane! You don't have to throw me into a corner and keep me safe from all the baddies! I'm supposed to be a part of the team, not some damsel in distress that everyone keeps out of the fight!"

Jace growled and looked up at the sky as if searching for a way out of the argument that never ended. She could see his frustration with, what was to him, a stale topic. "You aren't trained yet, Clary. It's my job to keep you safe."

Clary stomped her booted heel into the pavement, feeling childish and petulant. "How am I supposed to learn anything when no one lets me try?"

Meeting her eyes with his golden ones, Jace reached up to brush her cheek with the back of his scarred, graceful fingers. For a moment, her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his fingers, her throat working as the sweetness of touch soothed her, her anger melting away even as she struggled to hold onto it. The smell of sunshine and clean soap seemed to settle around her like a familiar, warm blanket and she let out a soft breath. Jace's fingers drifted from her cheek to her jaw, traced a pattern that tingled down the column of her throat and glided across her exposed collarbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Against her will, Clary shuddered pleasantly and her eyes drifted open. Golden eyes pinned hers, pupil blown and darkened with a sudden urgency, and Jace tugged her into his arms, pinning her against his body. The contours of her body, made prominent by Shadowhunter gear, moulded to his easily and she felt her breathing pick up when he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her face close to his.

When his breath ghosted across her lips, warm and heavy, his lips close enough to touch, Clary was so close to letting the familiar argument die until Jace murmured, "I'll always protect you, Clary."

Freezing in his grip, her muscles instantly going taut as a bowstring, Clary narrowed her eyes at him. Jace seemed to realize he had spoken the wrong words because his lips were quick to form new ones, but Clary reached up and slapped a hand over his mouth before he could loose them. "I don't _need_ your protection, Jace Lightwood," she spat.

With that, she spun out of his grip and with her hands fisted at her side she picked a direction at random and began walking away from him once more.

"Where are you going?" Jace called to her, his voice thick with frustration.

"Away from you! I can find my own way back!" She growled without turning around. Not caring whether he heard or not, Clary kept walking.

She heard him let loose a string of profanities, but for once, Jace seemed to get that it wouldn't be smart to pursue her, and then she was on her own. Clary was too busy replaying the events of the night to pay attention to where she was going, she just mindlessly took corners and crossed streets blindly, letting her feet go where they wanted.

They had gotten word of a den of Scorprios demons that had holed up in a dilapidated old brownhouse by the river, and she, Jace, Alec and Isabelle had suited up and gone down to clear out the demon den. Clary had been pinned, suspiciously without a word, between Alec, who was leading, and Jace and Isabelle who were rear guard. They had her so neatly encircled that she barely had room to breathe, and when they crept into the building, Alec's tall frame blocked out the scenery, so all she saw was his shoulder blades. They had cleared each room on the ground floor methodically, Clary always somehow pushed to the back as her fellow hunters made sure the room was clear, until they were left with the upper story. Testing out the stairs, Alec had put his foot through a rotten step, and the resulting noise gave them away.

When Jace heard the sound of pounding feet overhead, and the blood curdling low hiss that began to steadily increase in volume, he had unceremoniously shoved Clary behind him and backed up until she was literally pinned between his solid back and the dusty wall of the entry way. She had protested and struggled to escape, but Jace had ignored her and remained solid and unmovable. When the real sounds of battle began, grunts and calls back and forth between Isabelle and Alec, the sounds of sharp blades hitting deadly barbed tails, Jace finally moved to help his siblings, and Clary had peeled herself off the wall and felt a mixture of fierce glee that she was finally going to be able to fight, and a little trepidation, but every time she moved forward, someone intercepted, and when finally one of the Scorprios demons had snuck past, focusing in on her with rolling yellow eyes, lashing its venomous tail behind her, she had barely the time to take a fighting stance and adjust her grip on her seraph blade before Jace pulled the overprotective boyfriend act and, slashing his blade carelessly through the demon that blocked his way and bodily heaving it aside, he had leapt in between her and the approaching Scorprios and flicked his wrist, sending his blade through the eye of the thing.

Clary, frustrated beyond all reasoning, had shoved him aside and tried to move into the fray, and instead found herself being unceremoniously thrown over a shoulder and carted away from the battle. She caught a glimpse of Jace's face, of the determined look in his eye, before was dumped on the floor of a musty closet and the door was slammed in her face. By the time she had regained her wits enough to pound at the door and try to get out, he had moved a heavy piece of furniture in front of the door and barred her in.

Now, walking down the street with her fists pounding into the sides of her thighs rhythmically in frustration, Clary could feel her irritation at being thought helpless and fragile bubble up in her chest until she could barely breathe, and she let loose a sharp cry of pure rage. It had been _months_ since Idris, months of training and sparring and readying herself for her birthright, and the three of them still treated her like she was made of glass.

_'I'm a Shadowhunter too, damnit! And yeah, I may be a little behind in training and experience, but how am I supposed to prove myself if they throw me in a closet every time there's a hint of danger?' _

Seething inside, her ears roaring with the sound of her blood boiling, Clary didn't notice the van that had been following her for a block now, engine purring quietly, lights turned off. She didn't see how the empty, barren street she had wandered onto, or the fact that the lights in this neighbourhood were mostly burnt out. The first hint of danger, that feeling of ice water pooling at the base of her spine, only came to her when she heard the sounds of car doors opening and closing, albeit quietly, and the sounds of footsteps on the sidewalk approaching her from behind.

When she finally came back to herself, eyes alighting on the empty street, ears picking up the sounds of feet that were trying hard to be silent, Clary felt all her nerves fire up with electric warnings of danger and by the time she moved to turn her head, all she saw was a glinting blur, and then there was an unbelievable burning in her temple and right eye. She crumpled bonelessly to the sidewalk, her vision going black as pain ricocheted through her skull.

"Why'd you hit her in the temple, you idiot?" A man's voice.

"Silly bitch turned just as I was going to brain her!" Someone growled blackly, and as she struggled to remain conscious she felt strong arms heft her up none too gently and a shoulder slammed into her sternum, the sensation of dangling half upside-down made the pain increase in Clary's head tenfold and when she was dropped onto something hard and unyielding, and the sounds of metal doors being slid shut came to her, she was barely alert enough to decipher them. Between one laboured breath and the next, Clary felt the tide of black wash over her and then she knew nothing at all.

_Clarissa. _

The voice cut through the dark, golden and piercing, like singing. Clary was adrift inside her own mind, unconscious, but for that musical voice that pulled her upward, called to her to wake up.

_Clarissa, you must wake up now._

The command behind that voice was so powerful that Clary struggled through the darkness, fought for consciousness, but as soon as she felt herself beginning to stir to life, she felt the searing pain in her skull, the pressure so heavy, the thickness that muddled her thoughts. The right side of her head felt as if it was made of broken glass, and the urge to scream sent her fleeing internally back to the safety of the dark inside her mind.

_Clarissa! Fight! You are in danger! You must wake up!_

And then there was the softest of touches against the uninjured part of her face, like a feather brushing her cheek, and with that touch came an overwhelming sensation of reassurance, of comfort. Fighting the temptation to fall back into oblivion, Clary pushed forward and with a quiet whimper she felt herself wake fully. Her right eye would not open, and the vision in her left was blurred and unfocused. She raised a shaky hand up to her head and tentatively explored her face and temple. She could only bear to touch her injury for a moment before the pain became too intense and let her leaden arm drop back to her side, trying not to think on how her fingers were coated with thick, warm fluid.

Since she could not see, Clary strained to focus on the sounds she was hearing. After a moment it became apparent that she was in the back of a vehicle, and the faint bumps that jostled her occasionally confirmed her theory. She remembered voices, men's voices, before she had been knocked unconscious and Clary shuddered. The whole situation seemed too sloppy for the work of Downworlders or demons. If either wanted to attack you, they generally didn't knock you out and throw you in a van. The past months of her life she had been so concerned with dealing with demons and Downworlders, with the Nephilim, that she had completely forgotten about the danger that could befall any young girl walking the streets of Manhattan alone at night. She had forgotten about the evil that men could do.

_Can you move?_

Clary froze and whipped her head around, searching for the voice she had thought she had imagined, and immediately regretted the movement as it sent spikes of pain reverberating through her skull. But she caught a blurred figure through her good eye, and struggled to focus on it. Crouched just a few feet away from her feet, a man shaped shadow shifted. Blinking rapidly, Clary tried to shake the strange light that edged the figure in gold from her vision, thinking it was an effect of her obvious head trauma. But if anything, the golden aura only intensified and Clary's heart began to thump painfully in her chest.

Very slowly, and with trepidation, Clary nodded slowly and shifted her body, preparing to move.

_Quietly, Clary. _

Just then she heard the murmur of a voice, and she remembered the danger she was in. Moving so carefully and quietly it was as if she wasn't moving at all, Clary struggled to pull her suddenly unresponsive, heavy body into a seated position. It was incredibly difficult, and at times she felt a wave of dizziness, or faintness threaten, and she found herself biting her lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from making noises as her head threatened to split open. When finally she managed to sit up, resting on the cool metal of the van's interior wall for support, the figure of light glimmered brightly as if in acknowledgement of her feat and she felt that golden voice singing through her mind again.

_Good girl! The next part will be harder. But I can get you to freedom if you listen to my instructions. Will you trust me, Clarissa Fray? _

Clary considered this for a moment, then thought of the alternatives. Her mind showed her terrifying images of newspaper clippings, of sound bites on the local news, of the things that happened to sixteen year old girls far too often. Again she nodded, digging her fingers into the undersides of her thighs to keep herself from panicking.

_I already unlocked the doors to this vehicle. You'll need to hold onto something, this is where it gets.. messy._

Furrowing her brow, Clary tried to interpret that as her fingers automatically searched for handholds. She managed to lock onto a metal bar of some sort and gripped it tightly. She had the feeling she didn't want to know what 'messy' meant. Then, with the sound of wings beating against a hard wind, the figure of shadow and light moved from her toward the front of the cab and she followed it with her good eye. It moved gracefully in a half crouch until it was behind the grilled doors that separated the front of the van from the back and slid long, thin, tapered fingers through the openings in the grill. She could make out the vague forms of two men sitting up front through the passing streetlights.

_This is the part where you close your eyes and try not to listen. _

Clary was quick to do what she was told. She squeezed her eyes closed, even though it brought on a new wave of agony in her right eye, and she buried her head against her left shoulder, trying to shut out as much sound as possible. Still, she heard it when the golden voice that had previously been just in her head began to sing out loud, when it became harsh and frightening. She heard it when the screams began.

When the van began to swerve violently, those terrible screams piercing her to the very core, she just gripped the bar beneath her fingers harder and made herself as small as possible, tucking her limbs against her abdomen and praying for anything to make the screaming stop. Clary felt it when the van bumped up over a curb, and the screaming only increased in volume. It took her a moment to realize that she had added her own voice to the horror in the van.

"Make it stop! Please, make it stop!" She was crying, over and over again.

Suddenly there were strong arms enfolding her, pressing her to the wall of the van, and without thought, Clary buried her face in the warmth of that embrace, rubbing her cheek against a soft material that covered a solidly muscled chest. Then she was jolted violently, only remaining in her makeshift seat because of her iron grip on the bar behind her back and the body that was pressed solidly up against her, as metal crunched and squealed all around them. The impact rocked her until she felt like her bones were shattering inside her body, and she gritted her teeth so hard she felt her jaw creak.

And then just as suddenly it was over. The van shuddered to a halt, having obviously crashed into something solid, and the screams of men and metal had died abruptly, leaving only a heavy silence. Clary realized she had been holding her breath and she sucked in a deep, shuddering breath through her nose, smelling a mixture of gas, smoke and the coppery tang of what could only be a copious amount of blood. Her whole body erupted in a fine tremor. The arms around her released her gently and the warmth moved away and Clary found herself panicking.

"Don't leave me!" she whimpered, and then immediately winced. She was a Shadowhunter, she wasn't supposed to whimper, or play victim. She wasn't supposed to depend on others to save her, she was supposed to be the one doing the saving.

_I am not leaving Clarissa. I am going to open the back doors, we must leave before the human authorities get here, _the voice reassured her soothingly, and a hand reached out in the dark to lay on her shoulder for a brief moment.

Without a sound, she felt the warm presence move away from her and then there was a creaking as the metal doors at the rear of the van were opened. A lithe figure gracefully leapt from the van and then turned and reached a hand back, gesturing silently for her.

_'Come with me if you want to live,' _she thought hysterically, but unlocked her death grip on her support bar and slid across the floor of the vehicle on her butt, less gracefully than her companion, and swung her legs out until she was sitting on the edge of the van. The movement had her head swimming and Clary stared at her feet dangling above the pavement to try and keep herself from passing out.

_Can you stand?_

Stubborn pride had her nodding her head, and even as her body trembled at the mere act of sitting upright, she let herself slide forward until her feet made contact with pavement and managed to remain more or less vertical. She turned to smile triumphantly at her mysterious ally, but when she caught sight of him in the light from the street, she felt her face go blank with shock.

She realized three things simultaneously.

He was beautiful.

He was definitely not human, although she suspected she had known that already.

And he was glowing.

What strength Clary had poured out of her like rainwater and her knees gave out. Before she could topple to the pavement, the beautiful creature standing still before her awed scrutiny moved impossibly fast and caught her under the arms. She could have sworn he laughed as he swept her up into his arms and cradled her in his arms. Quickly falling back to the state he had found her in, chiefly, unconscious, Clary stared in childlike fascination at the golden aura that outlined his form and she raised a hand to let her fingers trail through the glow that radiated from his chest.

"Pretty..." she murmured thickly.

This time, he definitely laughed.

_Shall I take you home, little Shadowhunter?_ He asked softly, but Clary had already lapsed into oblivion.

He sighed gently, a noise that would have sounded to Clary like the wind dancing through the leaves had she been awake to hear it, and began to carry them away from the mangled vehicle and its unfortunate occupants.


	2. Chapter 2

Jace was lying in bed, he had changed out of his Shadowhunter gear, but instead of getting into his usual sleep pants, he was in a pair of faded jeans and a long sleeved tee. He glared at the ceiling like it had done him wrong, fisted and unfisted his hands in the coverlet on his bed and checked his cell phone for the time so often that the unchanging numbers had him half believing that either the phone was malfunctioning, or that time had, in fact, stopped moving.

"Ten more minutes, she has ten more minutes, and then I'm going out looking for her," Jace told the ceiling firmly, gritting his teeth.

God help her if she forced him to go get her, because at this point he would be dragging her petite, well formed ass back to the Institute kicking and screaming. The thought appeased the growing agitation in him, and he let his imagination give him the full colour picture, of throwing Clary over his shoulder and holding her by the back of her thighs. She would slam her fists into his shoulders and back, and wouldn't hold back even a little, and he could hear her shrieks of frustration so perfectly in his head. He smiled when his mind offered the added detail of giving her a light smack on the ass for misbehaving and making him worry.

The truth of the matter was that less than a month ago, he would have gone searching for her long ago, in fact, he wouldn't have let her stomp off and away from him, _period. _But as their fights became more and more frequent and bitter, Isabelle had finally cornered him and gave him some "friendly" advice on girls.

"_I know your man bits demand that you not let her storm off, and you just want to drag her back to your den by the hair every time she does, reign in your inner caveman and let her cool off, idiot."_

Those had been Isabelle's exact words. And against his nature as it was, he was doing his best to follow Isabelle's advice. He was desperate to end this dance Clary and he had been doing almost without end since they had gotten back from Idris and Clary had moved into the Institute to continue her training. If they weren't fighting about the completely ridiculous issue of Clary's safety, then they were bickering over Clary's lessons, and she would snap at him for _this_, he would bark at her for _that_. Jace sighed and palmed his eyes tiredly.

He knew quite well why his temper flared so frequently, and why he was so quick and eager to rise to a fight with Clary. It was so damn simple, and quite honestly, the stupidest of excuses, but the fact of the matter was that he was sexually frustrated.

It had been so easy before he _cared. _Sex came in the form of random encounters, no strings, no attachments, no complications.

But Clary was... Clary was Clary. She'd become a part of him from the minute she'd waltzed into his life at Pandemonium, and now she was so entangled and enmeshed inside of him Jace honestly couldn't imagine what life would be like without her standing by his side, the only girl he had ever trusted with his heart. Sex with Clary could be nothing _but_ complicated.

The only thing Jace had known up until this point was how to love them and leave them, and since that was the opposite of what he had planned, he was so nervous he would just screw everything up this time, that he wouldn't know what to do after, that it would change things between them, that every single time they got close, achingly close, he had panicked and shut the whole thing down. And every time he had, he saw the same look of hurt and rejection in Clary's wide green eyes and it just concreted the fact that somehow this, he, would only end up hurting her if they went through with it.

Clary was so innocent, so fragile, so _breakable._ He could not bear to be the one who broke her.

Frustrated with that particular train of though, Jace growled and snatched up his cell phone once more to check the time. Frowning at the lit up display he felt a disturbing pang of wrongness ricochet through his body. It was late, too late. Clary should have come back by now. And he had put Alec on watch for her, knowing she was unlikely to check in with him when she got back(although he half thought she might come just to smack him), the elder Lightwood had staked out in the kitchen, and had promised to alert Jace the moment Clary came back from her walk.

Where was she?

Jace was tugging on his light jacket, scowling as he prepared to make good on his threat to carry her back to the Institute by force if necessary, trying to ignore the itch in his gut that there was something wrong here, when the bell to the Institute sounded, and his head shot up. That itch turned into a full fledged wildfire in his belly and before he had time for thought he was off, tearing through the halls toward the elevator.

_Clary, Clary, Clary.._ his thoughts chanted in time with his feet thudding against the floors.

He nearly crashed into Alec as the dark haired boy rounded a corner, headed toward the elevator. He grabbed his adopted brother by the shoulders to steady them both and he tightened his grip briefly as he searched Alec's face.

"She hasn't come home?" Jace asked tightly, knowing already as his stomach cramped up with that same sense of _wrongness_ that she hadn't. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest, like he was gearing up for a battle.

"No," Alec confirmed for him with a small frown as he took in Jace's wild eyes and tone. "Why? Do you think-?"

Jace cut him off with a frantic movement of his hand, not letting himself go so far as to think, think of anything at all. All that there was, all there could be was finding Clary. Bringing her _home. _And possibly crushing her to him, wrapping her up in his skin and never letting her go. He spun and darted to the elevator, and yanked open the gate open and he wasn't surprised when after a beat, Alec joined him, his face wiped carefully of all emotion and then they were moving down at a pace that had Jace swearing blackly and slamming his fist into the side of his thigh in time to his thudding pulse.

"Why is this thing so damn slow? Is it powered by frigging molasses or something?" He growled as they descended, not noticing that even in the seriousness of the moment, Alec's lips twitched slightly at Jace's impatience.

Finally the elevator stopped and Jace was out the gate and full out running down the centre of the pews toward the front doors, Alec just behind him, his ever-present _parabatai_ always guarding his back. When they reached the doors, Jace paused, just a heartbeat, to draw the seraph blade from his boot and when he straightened, Alec had his blade in hand, drawn from any number of possible concealed places on his body, and with a silent look exchanged between the two of them, Jace pulled the doors open.

To nothing.

Alec glanced at him, a frown painted between his brows, and placed his hand against Jace's back.

There was nothing out there. Except.. Except-

A small black figure was curled at the base of the steps, looking impossibly small, like a child. Jace's heart slammed against his ribs and he was running gracelessly down the steps, so fast he tripped and would have face planted on the concrete if not for Alec's hand grabbing him by the back of the shirt and hauling him upright. Any other time he would have thanked him, any other time but this.

Jace landed on his knees beside the figure curled in the shadows at the base of the step. He recognized those errant red curls, would recognize them anywhere. He had a hand raised above Clary's small figure, hovering over her shoulder, but couldn't bring himself to touch her. His hand trembled in the air.

She was so still.

Alec knelt beside him, with a little more grace and reached under his outstretched hand.

"Wait! Don't touch her, don't.." he protested angrily, but his voice dropped off into nothing.

'_Don't touch her and tell me she- Don't tell me she's dead. Just don't,' _he thought with growing terror.

But Alec ignored him and laid his head against the bit of bare skin that was showing at her throat. His fingers came back bloody and Jace made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Something inside him broke, and Jace could hear the noise in his head.

"Jace, she's got a pulse," Alec told him firmly.

Jace stared into Alec's blue eyes uncomprehendingly, the roaring in his head blocking out his voice.

"She's alive, Jace. But she's hurt, we have to get her inside," Alec said carefully, giving Jace a little shake to bring him around.

Jace released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and stared at Clary blindly.

"Alive?" he echoed hoarsely.

"Jace! Snap out of it!" Alec grabbed Jace's hand where it still hovered over Clary's shoulder and he guided it to press against the column of Clary's throat gently so he could feel the warmth of her skin, could feel the weak flutters of her heart under his fingers.

Jace closed his eyes gratefully and let out a soft noise of relief. He stroked his fingers against her neck and then he moved his hand and gripped Clary under the hip and shoulders and gently lifted her into his arms. He cradled her against his chest and stood up carefully, noting how light she was. He felt something in his chest loosen at the feeling of her living and breathing in his arms, beyond thankful that he had been wrong. But the sense of urgency was back as Clary's head lolled around and her arms hung limply at her sides.

Alec moved in to help Jace support her head, and tucking her hands against his chest.

A voice cried to them from the top of the steps and they looked up to see Isabelle, wrapped in a short flowery black and pink kimono, her electrum whip wrapped around her wrist. "Jace, Alec? I heard the bell. Is something- Oh God! Is that Clary?"

She rushed halfway down the stairs in her bare feet before Alec snapped at her. "Isabelle, go wake up mom and dad, tell them Clary's been hurt. And for god's sake, buy a longer robe!"

Izzie threw a concerned look at Jace, and at the limp figure of Clary in his arms, ignoring Alec's comment before she dashed back inside the Institute. With Alec leading the way, Jace managed to get Clary inside. In the light of the elevator, she looked ghastly. She was so pale, the colour drained even from her lips. The right side of her head was clotted with blood and her curls were plastered in it. Her right eye was swollen completely shut. Jace tucked her more securely against his chest and murmured soft, soothing nonsense at her. Alec checked her pulse again and kept his face neutral.

Maryse and Robert met them at the elevator, sleep mussed and concerned. Maryse took one look at Clary and started making orders. She sent Isabelle for towels and the first aid kit, had Alec get a bowl of warm water, and she led Jace to a couch in the sitting room where she had him put Clary down. Jace laid her gently on the cushions, arranging her hands by her sides and then he kneeled beside the couch and wrapped her small hand in his own and waited with mounting frustration for others to make everything better.

Maryse leaned over him and gently probed at Clary's eye and ran her fingers softly over her temple and skull. Then she drew her stele from the pocket of her robe and unzipped the front of Clary's suit almost to her navel. Jace saw a flash of dainty white bra, patterned with blue flowers before he averted his eyes. He realized that both Alec and Isabelle had returned and he felt a surge of protectiveness. Clary would be mortified to know that everyone was standing around her while she lay in her bra, he knew. It felt wrong that they were there. But he knew that weighted against her life, a little bit of skin and lace and his discomfort on behalf of her was ridiculous. He waited for Maryse to finish the iratze, knowing that the wound was serious as she drew it close to Clary's heart.

After a moment Maryse leaned back and put a hand on Robert's arm and the other laid softly on Jace's head.

"She's had a major head trauma. Something hit her, and hard. Her orbital bone is definitely fractured, but her skull seems to be in one piece. I'm worried about the damage to her temple though, this kind of hit can kill you outright, or.." Maryse trailed off, seeing the darkening look on Jace's face.

Leaning up, he zipped her suit back up and let his fingers rest on Clary's cheek.

Isabelle came forward quietly, as if afraid to disturb the hush in the room and offered Maryse the stack of white hand towels she had brought, and set the first aid kit on the side table beside the couch, near Clary's head. Then Alec brought his bowl of water and set it down quietly, immediately moving back to the far wall. Maryse gave Jace's head a soft pat and then she moved in on the supplies. First she wet and wrung out a hand towel, and gently she began to wipe away the blood from Clary's face and neck, stopping every now and then to plunge the towel in the bowl and wring it out before moving back to her work.

Jace watched, feeling helpless, as Maryse tended to Clary, but as he found helplessness a useless emotion he quickly moved onto anger. Anger he could deal with, he could do something about. It danced up his spine and burned low and hot in his gut and soon he was gritting his teeth against it. He was careful not to crush Clary's hand, though.

"Who did this?" Jace bit out through gritted teeth.

"Demon?" Izzie offered quietly.

"No bite marks, no poison, no cuts. What demon uses a blunt object?" Alec replied after a short pause.

"Downworlder then," she shot back, throwing her long hair over her shoulder in obvious frustration.

"Neither, I would think," interjected Robert calmly. "Who goes through all the trouble to knock a Shadowhunter out, nearly kill her, then bring her to the only place that can save her and ring the bell?"

The group went silent at that, the only sound the droplets of water that Maryse carefully wrung out. Jace looked at the bowl which was steadily becoming a darker and darker crimson and felt his jaw pop as he clenched his teeth harder.

"I need a target, not unsolved mysteries," he snapped.

'_Other than the idiot who let her wander the streets alone at night,' _he thought bitterly. Because along with the rage he could feel guilt coiling up to make its home in his gut.

There was a palpable silence in the room and then Robert's mellow baritone broke through. "I'm going to make tea, would anyone like a tea?"

Jace let his forehead thump against the front of the couch at Robert's catchall solution to any problem. Tea.

Should it be dire, sometimes he would add a splash of brandy.

It somewhat reassured Jace that Robert didn't consider circumstances dire enough to bring out the brandy. It probably meant that Clary was going to be okay.

Later, after Maryse had cleaned Clary's head wound, dressed her temple in a bandage and had Isabelle fetch an ice pack from the kitchen to aid the swelling and pain while the iratze did its work, she announced that Clary would be fine, given time, and that if they wanted to find whoever, _whatever_, had done this to Clary, they would have to wait until she woke up. Since, she added, that wouldn't be until at least morning, the best thing they could do was go to bed.

No one even blinked when Jace settled himself on the very end of the couch and made himself comfortable, resting Clary's feet on his lap.

Maryse only leaned in to give him a one armed hug, depositing a quilted throw on his lap with the other and whispered in his ear, "Don't beat yourself up over this too hard, my son."

He returned the hug awkwardly, still unused to Maryse's new affections, but glad for them all the same. When the room cleared he spread the blanket out over Clary and removed her boots before tucking the blanket around them. His hand traced the line of her leg gently and he let himself be lulled by the quiet, rhythmic sound of her breathing before he switched off the lamp.

Jace was in a very light sleep, too worked up to completely drift off, when Clary stirred and made a little mewling sound. He woke up instantly.

"Clary?" he asked quietly, trying to see through blanket of darkness.

There was a short silence and then, "_..Jace?"_

Jace fumbled to turn on the lamp on the sidetable, and when he flicked it on, Clary threw her arm over her eyes and whimpered in the sudden light. She threw out her free hand and reached toward him blindly and Jace was quick to wrap it in his own, twining his fingers with hers and locking their hands together.

"I'm here, Clary, you're safe," he said softly, squeezing her hand and shifting closer to her.

"My head," she murmured thickly. "My head hurts."

"I know it does. It'll get better soon, I promise. What happened, Clary? Who hurt you?" He asked, trying not to let any hint of the anger thrumming through his body to colour his voice when he spoke to her.

Clary had yet to uncover her face and she made a pained noise in her throat. "I'm so tired."

Jace leaned over her awkwardly and pressed his face close to hers, where it was buried under her arm. "I know, I know you are kiddo. Just tell me who did this and then you can go to sleep."

Clary finally withdrew her arm and blinked in the light before she looked at him. Her right eye had already healed to a point where it was no longer swollen shut, but coloured with vivid purples and green bruises. Her green eyes were glassy and confused, but she managed to focus on his face.

"'M tired, Jace," she repeated, and she looked so vulnerable and fragile in that moment that Jace sighed and reached up to stroke her cheek gently with the back of his knuckles.

"Okay, Clary. We can talk about later. You can go back to sleep, I'll be right here."

Her eyes fluttered under his gentle touch and Clary moved her face up into his fingers, like a cat coaxing him into petting the right spots. Almost against his will, Jace grinned and obediently ran his fingertips over the soft curve of her cheek, along the line of her jaw, and traced the outline of her lips. Clary seemed soothed by this and soon enough her eyes were shut and her breathing had evened out.

Convinced she had dropped off to sleep again, Jace was surprised when Clary suddenly murmured, almost to herself, with her eyes still closed. "Saw an angel. Forgot to ask his name. Bad manners."

Jace's fingers froze in their ministrations and he stared at her face with shock draining the colour from his face. "What? Clary, what did you see?"

She didn't answer, as she had really and truly lapsed into unconsciousness this time.


End file.
